


International Magical Cooperation

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Minister Hermione Granger, Minister Viktor Krum, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 06:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20792045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: Viktor and Hermione want to organize a new Triwizard Tournament in order to promote international magical cooperation.





	International Magical Cooperation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mcal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcal/gifts).

> To one of my very favorite authors, alpha extraordinaire, and fandom gem -- happy birthday, **mcal**! Words can’t express how positively thrilled I am to call you friend. You are so loved! <3
> 
> My love forever to **MrsRen** for her alpha reading and reassurance! <3
> 
> Apologies in advance for my poor Bulgarian accent. xD

* * *

“You do know that it’s incredibly rude to stare at a clock when someone’s talking to you?” Harry’s playful smile coaxed one of her own, though far more sheepish than playful. “There, is it so hard to look into my eyes once in a while?”

“Look into your eyes?” Hermione laughed and absently shuffled papers around her desk because she was antsy and her hands needed something to do. “That’s the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard.”

“Tell that to Luna,” he quipped, eyebrows raised just a smidge. “I’m fairly certain that she’s convinced she charmed me into falling in love with her. I won’t tell her that’s not true, though. I’m terrified she’ll try again and succeed.”

“Why is it that every time you talk about your wife, I get this feeling in my gut that says she could easily become the next Dark Lord?” Hermione watched as her best friend laughed, nodded his head, and glanced down to the stack of paperwork she’d moved to the edge of her desk.

“Nargles, surely.” He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “So, Triwizard Tournament, yeah?”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and clasped her hands together. “Yes. Listen, I know that it comes with a lot of…  _ baggage _ , but I really think that we can make it incredible — real, true International Magical Cooperation.”

“And the French and Bulgarian Ministers have agreed to take part in the full planning, logistics, and security of such an event?” He scrutinized her face, which she tried to keep as passive as possible.

“Well…” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and dropped her eyes to the very brief letter from the French Minister that said, in no uncertain terms, absolutely not. “Minister Moreau is disinclined to participate given the history of the event, however he did say that if we could prove better security measures, he would consider it further.”

“Uh-huh.” He canted his chin to the side. “And Bulgaria?”

She blushed despite trying to stifle it. Her fingers found the edge of papers and fidgeted with it until she felt a papercut sink into her skin. It gave her something else to focus on so that she didn’t seem so — so —  _ excited _ .

“Minister Krum has agreed to meet with me in order to draw up plans to present to Minister Moreau.” Hermione tried to sound all-business and, at the same time, forced her mental images of a grown-up Viktor Krum from her mind. 

It didn’t work. He was bloody fit.

“Luna will murder me if I don’t ask—”

Right, he would blame it on his wife, who was conveniently not in the room for Hermione to scold. Hermione rolled her eyes. “We’re just friends, Harry. Always have been, okay?”

Harry lifted his hands with a placating smile. “Of course. This is a professional meeting only. I’ll remind Luna that she’s wrong in assuming—”

“Besides,” Hermione continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken at all. “Viktor and I haven’t properly seen one another since the last Triwizard Tournament. You can hardly count Bill and Fleur’s wedding, since we were all prepared to run at any moment.”

Harry nodded. “Right, you two were hardly more than dance partners at the Yule Ball, despite that Parvati saw you cozying up to him. Absolutely nothing in common, no romantic feelings whatsoever.”

“And,” she stood from her desk and paced the length of her office with her hands wrung in front of her. “I don’t even know if he’s married now or not. I haven’t done any research into who Viktor is now; just the standard Bulgarian Seeker, Potions Master, International Auror tripe that The Prophet prints about all new Ministers and Presidents.”

“Right.” Harry stood from his chair and blocked her path. His hands came down to her shoulders and he did that creepy Harry thing where it felt as if he was staring straight through her. “Listen, Hermione, not that I’m one to pry into your personal life—”

“Since when?” she laughed, half-serious. “You’re worse than the bloody Weasleys with all your prying. I swear that you report everything we say back to Molly. The woman sent home a care package with two dozen biscuits last week after she heard through a friend of a friend that I had a bad time with the Peruvian Minister.”

He waved her off. “We — I mean, _ I _ —” he corrected himself when she raised a pointed eyebrow at him, “ _ I _ feel like you never had the chance to get to know Krum. He’s a brilliant bloke and he’s always asking about you. I think—”

“Excuse me?” Her voice reached high decibels. “Always asking about me? Do you talk to him regularly?”

“Sure,” he said with a shrug. “We worked together on a few cases through the years and maintained contact because of Quidditch. I actually went to a Bulgaria and South Africa match a few weeks ago as his guest.”

“A few weeks ago!” Hermione shook off Harry’s hold and glared at him as if he were a traitor. “And you couldn’t have mentioned any of this to your best friend?”

“I didn’t think there was anything worth mentioning.” His face took on a gloating quality, and his stupid green eyes shined. “You’re barely acquaintances, remember?”

Even she didn’t believe it when she blinked, swallowed, and whispered, “Right.”

* * *

Hermione paced in front of her personal Floo. As Minister of Magic, she was allowed an unregulated, off-the-grid Floo that connected to everywhere. She watched the grate out of the corner of her eye and jumped at any little noise that she could hear coming from the offices outside of her door. Even the portrait of the Muggle Prime Minister in her office looked as nervous as she felt.

“Don’t do that, Thom, it’s unbecoming to stare.” The portrait simply stared back at her until she aimed her wand at it and covered the surface with a white cloth so that she didn’t have to look at his beady little face.

After five solid minutes of pacing, her Floo roared to life with green flames. Even though she’d been expecting him — and he was precisely on time — she still jumped back and fidgeted with the maroon dress she’d chosen to wear that day. Merlin, if Harry could see how she’d fancied herself up for this meeting, he’d never let her live it down.

Viktor shook off the soot from his boots and stepped into her office with a wide smile and open arms. “Ah, Herm-o-ninny!”

Before she knew it, she was wrapped in his bulky, muscular arms and pressed against his toned, brick-like body. Hell, he smelled so sodding good. So distracting that she forgot to wrap her arms around him to hug him back. Hermione stepped away with a girlish laugh on her lips.

“Viktor, it’s so nice that you could make time for me!” She swept toward her desk and gestured for him to sit in the chair across.

He glanced down at the chair and then grabbed the back of it. His large hands wrapped easily around the thick wood and Hermione had to pry her eyes away from the sheer size of his hands in order to focus on the dashing smile on his face. Viktor dragged the chair around the side of her desk and placed it right beside her.

“You English vizards are so cold sometimes,” he laughed and sat in the chair, knees angled in her direction. “Ve Bulgarians prefer the intimacy of friendships. I hope you don’t mind that I’m this close to you.”

“N-no,” she scooted herself back and blushed as she crossed her legs at the knee. “It’s fine, it’s good! So how are you? You’ve been Minister in Bulgaria for only six months now, is that right?”

“Vell, I haff shadowed the Minister for years, but vas finally elected this season, yes.” He flashed her another dazzling smile and placed his hand overtop hers on her knee. “I think ve vill do vonderful things together, Minister Granger.”

Merlin help her, Hermione felt the tingling blush on her cheeks and couldn’t stop it. “We certainly have a solid foundation for working together.” She drew her hand out from under his and offered a tight smile. It wouldn’t do to get too cozy, not when there was so much at stake. “Minister Moreau expects a solid plan for the Triwizard Tournament by the end of the week. We should get to work.”

Viktor appeared to understand her urgency and nodded sharply, though his smile never faltered. He reached into his pocket and, to her surprise, withdrew a beautiful gray quill and stack of parchment. She tried to hide her amazement, but her wide eyes must have given her away.

“I find it easier to travel vith an Undetectable Extension Charm,” he offered as a way of explaining how he’d pulled so much out of such a small space. “I understand the United Kingdom has a ban on the charm, but hopefully you vill not throw me into Azkaban.”

His playful smirk jolted Hermione’s insides and her body flooded with heat. “I suppose we’ll allow it this time, Minister Krum.” She smiled and moved a chunk of hair behind her ear. “So, I’m thinking that the tournament should take place at Hogwar—”

“No, no.” Hermione’s eyes flicked to his now serious face and a notch formed between her brows. All of her plans hinged on the games at Hogwarts. “There is too much bad history for Hogvarts to host this tournament. Durmstrang is much better setting.”

“Durmstrang?” She chewed the end of her quill thoughtfully. “Right. And does Durmstrang have sizable acreage to host?”

Viktor chuckled. “Perhaps you should come visit and see for yourself?”

His eyes bore into hers, so intense that she had to drop her gaze to their parchment to keep herself from doing something incredibly stupid. “Yes, I think… that’s a good idea.”

“Excellent,” he said, leaning back in his chair and perfectly at ease. “I vill make the arrangements for this evening and you vill stay overnight.”

  
“Overnight?” she yipped, quill falling to the desk. “Surely I can apparate back to England after a quick tour?”

“Vell, if you do that, you vill miss the second most beautiful sight in the vorld,” he informed her leisurely, waving a hand as if she was being unreasonable. “Our sunrise from the front of the castle is nearly unrivaled.”

She swallowed and in a low, nearly imperceptible voice, she asked, “What’s the first most beautiful, then?”

He raised one brow, cheek dimpling under the weight of a lopsided smile.

“Oh.” Flaming hot cheeks and a thudding heart stole whatever she could possibly think to respond with. She wetted her lips and fought her own smile.  
  


* * *

Hermione had never spent a lot of time in northern Europe. With the reputation that Durmstrang held, she expected that it would be shrouded in misty clouds and darkness, but it was actually quite bright and stunning. Many things had changed in the wizarding world, and she was pleased to know that the nature of the ‘dark’ school Durmstrang was one of them. For one, she didn’t need to accept the terms of a memory charm after traveling to the school. Of course, she traveled by Floo rather than ship — she’d have to remember to ask Viktor if Durmstrang still required modified memory charms for admittance to the school’s grounds.

She stepped onto the stone landing near a large set of oak double doors and glanced around the empty corridor that greeted her. The ceilings were high, though the space was narrower than she was used to when traveling to Hogwarts. Torches lit the stone with yellow light and cast a beautiful mellow, dancing glow on the walls. Clacking heels drew her attention back down the corridor as she dusted the soot off her official Ministry robes.

“Herm-o-Ninny, vonderful, hello!” Viktor held his hands out to her as he approached with a genial smile. “We haff the school to ourselves and the elves vill prepare our dinner this evening. Can I take your robes, Minister?”

She shucked her robes from her shoulders and found the castle to be quite warmer than she anticipated. Hermione wore layers, remembering the rumors of brutal cold in the North Sea, and quickly removed her white cardigan for Viktor to take as well. This left her in a sensible pencil skirt, white long sleeved blouse, and all-business Mary Janes that clicked against the stone as Viktor led her from the landing into the main school area.

Hermione couldn’t help but compare the Durmstrang Institute to Hogwarts. Where Hogwarts was vastly open and donned in portraits, suits of armor, and many staircases, Durmstrang was plain. Greeting her immediately at the entrance was one portrait of a broad shouldered man with a large black mustache and cold, dark eyes. There was one staircase directly in front of her that had what appeared to be hundreds of steps before it got to another landing. She squinted to find what might be at the top of those stairs, but couldn’t make out anything apart from heavy stone railing.

“Vhat do you think?” His voice was low and close. She felt pressure on her lower back and turned her head to find Viktor right at her side with a proud smile on his face. 

“It’s… not what I thought it would be,” she admitted, missing the warmth and welcome of Hogwarts. “But, it’s still lovely.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Herm-o-ninny.” His eyes lit up even in the yellow torchlight as he gently guided her from the entrance down another corridor behind the staircase. “The belief of old Headmasters of the school vas that the appeal of the school should be hidden.” He opened up a thick door with little effort and gestured for her to walk ahead into the next room. “The beauty of Durmstrang lies not in its magic, but in its history.”

Hermione gasped. The room wasn’t a room at all, but a massive dining hall that had a mausoleum feel to it. Along each of the four walls, monuments were etched into the stone, like various warriors depicted in battle. It spoke of glory and the hair on the back of Hermione’s neck stood on end.

“Are those… tombs?” she asked breathlessly, leaving his side to allow her fingers to trace the stone. “Former students?”

Viktor stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “It is, and they are. Our most heroic, who haff served in the name of Durmstrang in battle. Many years ago, ve vere the enemy to many vitches and vizards. These halls pay tribute to their sacrifice.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “I think it’s a shame that we never learned about the other magical schools at Hogwarts.” Hermione shook her head as she walked from one monument to the next. Each had an etching written in, what Hermione believed was, Russian. “Did you learn much about other schools here?”

A dark laugh left him. “No. Ve are a proud school, same as the others. But, that’s vhat ve’re trying to resolve, yes?” Viktor took her by the hand and led her through the large dining area where several stone tables sat as if they’d grown from the ground itself. “Through this door is the main school.”

She was embarrassed to say that she wasn’t ready to leave the dining hall. And immediately wanted to learn Russian so that she could read the memorials. However, Hermione allowed Viktor to lead her through the rest of the school and listened to him eagerly as he divulged the school’s history along the way.

* * *

The headmaster’s chamber was much colder than its counterpart at Hogwarts. Instead of whirring magical instruments and a plethora of lively portraits, the square, stone room had only one portrait on the wall and a map of the school etched into an old tapestry on the wall. Hermione approached it with her fingers outstretched, tracing the golden threads that stood out from the black backdrop.

Viktor stood at her side, one arm crossed over his stomach, and pointed at two small circles. “This is very advanced magic,” he said proudly. “Igor Karkaroff had this made vhen he vas headmaster; it's meant to give avay the location of all souls vithin the school.”

“Like the Marauder’s Map,” Hermione breathed in wonder, finger prodding at the little dot meant to represent her.

“The vhat?” Viktor half-turned to her, amused smile lingering at the corner of his lips.

“I’ve used something like this before.” She explained quickly. “Perhaps we could use something like it for the Triwizard Tournament. It could help keep track of those coming and going from the tournament.”

“You haff this?” He quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “I vas under the impression for years that this magic vas unique to Karkaroff.”

A bubble of laughter burst from her lips as she shook her hair, curls flipping over her shoulders. “Oh, no, the map that we had at Hogwarts was created in the seventies, actually. It’s inspired, of course. Does this map show secret pathways?”

“No.” He considered her quietly and crossed both arms over his chest with a light grunt. “You vill haff to excuse me, Herm-o-ninny. Ve vere greatly mistaken in our belief that Durmstrang held many more secrets than the other schools.”

Pride zinged through her. “Hogwarts might be the Hufflepuff of the International Magical Community, but we  _ were _ responsible for some very impressive magic.”

“ _ Vhat _ is a Hufflepuff?” A mask of confusion overtook his face, and Hermione couldn’t stop the chuckle that answered him.

“Do you have houses here, where you sort students by their most prominent traits?”

Viktor shook his head once. “All Durmstrang students should share the same core values.”

She thought as much. “At Hogwarts, we have four houses meant to embody various traits. Hufflepuff is — well, it’s meant to be those who are hardworking, but is often mistaken for being the least powerful of the houses because they don’t value things like chivalry, cunning, or wit.”

“Ah.” Viktor’s arms fell to his sides and he turned back to the tapestry. “Ve haff no Hufflepuff. Ve vould not value the Hufflepuff.”

“Just as the rest of the International Magical Community does not value Hogwarts.” She smiled as her point was made. When his brow furrowed, she placed a hand to his bicep and ignored that she couldn’t possibly cover even half of it. “That’s why the Triwizard Tournament is so important.”  
  


* * *

“We should haff a proposal done for Ministre Moreau tomorrow, I think.” Viktor led her through the corridors, around so many corners that she’d never be able to find her way back to where they were. “If ve can use the map and enhance security, he shouldn’t haff reason to veto our proposal.”

“I’m concerned that he’s adamantly against it, in any case.” Hermione sighed and stopped short as Viktor came to a sudden halt in front of her.

He withdrew his wand from somewhere within his dress robes and tapped on the plain stone wall. When it transformed into a door, Hermione couldn’t stop the grin on her face. Perhaps the schools were very different in some ways, but wizards were so similar by their very nature and never even realized it.

Viktor grasped the doorknob and yanked the door open. His hand found the small of her back and gently encouraged her to walk through the threshold. He followed after her closely and pulled the door shut behind them. She was surprised to see a standard kitchen; for some reason she was expecting something… different.

As Hermione took in the room, Viktor’s voice startled her and she bumped his hip with hers.

“Shopska?” He guided her to the long, silver counter near a cooling cabinet. He reached inside and grabbed tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and feta cheese. 

“Do you…” She chewed on the corner of her lip as a blush overtook her. “Do you not have house elves?”

“Ve do,” Viktor confirmed and must have missed the way her shoulders sagged in disappointment as he grabbed a chopping board and a sharp knife. “But there is no better feeling than making your own meals. I find it soothing.”

She melted there and then. Like a light flipped on inside of her, a reminder that despite his fame, his dashing good looks, and ineffable charm, Viktor was a  _ good man _ . Hermione grabbed a cucumber and took to chopping vegetables next to him with a small, secretive smile on her face.

* * *

They stood at an entrance to a small chamber that would be her quarters for the evening. Viktor taught her the motion of her wand and spell to open the door. With his hand to her lower back, he encouraged her into the room and gestured around the room as he acquainted her with the few amenities that were available to her.

  
A big, canopied bed was against the opposite wall, a small partitioned area with a clawfoot tub off in one corner, and a private toilet across the hall. Hermione padded into the room and perched herself on the edge of the soft bed as she kicked off her heels. A glorious feeling, after being confined to them all day. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Viktor.” Her belly full, her heart light, a yawn overtook her as she covered her mouth and smiled at her host.

Viktor graced her with a lopsided grin and bowed his head. “It vas a pleasure to show my past to you, Herm-o-ninny.”

She laughed, as she always did when he pronounced her name. “Her-my-own-e.”

“Her-my-own-e,” he said slowly with a nod. “Such a beautiful name, you vould think I vould be able to say it properly.”

“I like how you say it,” she assured him, shrugging. And it was true; it brought a smile to her face every time he tried to say her name.

He stepped forward and grabbed her hand from her knee. “Vell, then, Herm-o-ninny.” A cheeky grin, and then a kiss planted to the back of her hand, lingering long enough for sparks to shoot up her arm and straight into her heart. “I vill be in the next room should you need anything. And I shall see you before sunrise?”

Hermione’s stomach clenched. Part of her wanted to ask Viktor to stay, and the sensible part of her knew that it was a terrible idea to mix work and feelings. Still, as his hand was curled around hers and holding strong, she wanted nothing more than to yank him over her and finish what they barely started all those years ago.

When he pulled his hand away, it was as if in slow motion. She clung to him until the tips of their fingers slid away from one another, and something cold settled over her.

“Sleep good,” she whispered to him as his hand curled around the doorknob.

“And you, Herm-o-ninny.” He ducked his chin and exited her room.

Hermione flung herself back into the bed and groaned.

* * *

Hermione had been tossing and turning for at least an hour when he knocked on her door. She padded to the door in her sleeping shorts and tank top, bouncing quickly from foot to foot as the stone floor was cold against the soles of her feet.

Her heart stopped dead in her chest when she swung the door open and he stood there with no shirt. Only wearing a pair of baggy pajama bottoms that clung to the deep V of his hips. His body was rock hard, etched with deep muscular lines, and thick. Her mouth went dry and she blinked up at him through her long lashes.

Words wouldn’t come to her. She opened her mouth, shut it, opened it, shut it.  _ Get it together, Granger _ , she chastised herself.

“Hello,” she choked out finally, dragging her eyes from his abs to his eyes as quickly as possible.

If he noticed her ogling, Viktor said nothing of it. And, Hermione wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, or if perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she swore that she noticed his eyes dart to hers, too.

“Hello,” he answered finally, raising a hand in greeting. “I vas thinking… during the last Trivizard Tournament, ve only had the host schools’ national aurors monitoring the event for dark vizards.”

Hermione stepped backwards to allow Viktor into the room and closed the door behind him as he made his way towards her bed. She padded after him and damn near fell to the floor, tripping over her shoes.

His back was tanned, sinew chorded and rippling along his taut skin. He had a tattoo of a snitch, flying from one shoulder to the other across the top of his back. And the deep edge of his spine was long before it sloped towards his arse and dimpled at his tailbone.

  
The man was practically Adonis.

And Sweet Circe, she’d give anything in that moment to be his Aphrodite.

He turned on his heel and she crossed her arms, balling her hands into fists to try and rein in her sudden nerves. Her stomach fluttered.

“If ve invite the French and British Ministries to send their own aurors, they vill haff more control than the last tournament,” Viktor reasoned sensibly, while Hermione had absolutely zero sense about her whatsoever. All she could do was nod. “It puts their feet on the ground, as you say, and vill keep them from feeling as useless as they did… last time.”

Viktor waved his hand and a roll of parchment flies into it. He waved his other, and he was holding a quill in mere seconds. He sat on the edge of her bed and scooted himself back against the headboard. Several silent beats passed between them before he finally looked up to find Hermione still standing there, staring like a fool.

“I thought ve could draft the proposal this evening,” he said, as if explaining a question Hermione didn’t think to ask. Viktor patted the duvet and smiled. “The castle is drafty and your bed is varm. Come, sit.”

Her legs felt like lead as she forced herself to the side of the bed. He watched her sit and scooch, and her face flamed as she realized that the bed was just wide enough to fit both of them side by side. Her arm pressed against his, so small in comparison. As she stretched her legs out in front of her, she realized that she wasn’t wearing much clothing herself.

“If Durmstrang hosts the tournament, ve can house all the aurors on site,” Viktor went on to say as if they weren’t pressed closely together on a too-small bed wearing very little clothing. She tried to concentrate on his words, but her heart thundered in her ears. “Ve are protected by the sea and the mountains, and ve can use that to our advantage when planning the tasks.”

Viktor scribbled on the parchment and her eyes scanned his writing silently. She pointed to Harry’s name and raised her brows. “Harry won’t agree to this. The Goblet of Fire needs to be entirely rewarded before he’ll allow anyone to put their name into it.”

Viktor scratched out his words and rewrote them to include having the Goblet rewarded. Hermione nodded when Viktor pointed at the change and wordlessly asked if that suited her. She nodded and pulled her lips in between her teeth.

  
He smelled bloody good.

His smile was bloody sinful.

And he was so sodding warm that she wanted to remove her clothes and snuggle next to him for the rest of the night to enjoy only the heat from their bodies.

She was so done for.

“Herm-o-ninny.” Viktor chuckled and that was when she noticed that her head rested against his shoulder. He was glancing at her from the corner of his eye and she wanted the mattress to swallow her whole. “Are you alright?”

Hermione pushed herself up, shoulders square, spine straight, and jutted her chin. “I’m fine,” she tried to shake her thoughts clear. 

She was bloody better than this, better than losing her entire mind to the proximity of one, solitary man. One very single and nearly naked man. In her bed. 

_ Bugger, bugger, bugger. _

“Let’s go through the whole plan,” she forced out with clenched molars, and began rattling off various rules, strategies, and precautions they should take. All the while, she tried to ignore the roiling in her stomach that was directly the result of Viktor’s hot skin against hers.

The candlelight in the room flickered when she opened her eyes some several hours later. Her face was smashed against something rock hard and burning with warmth. It wasn’t until she tried to move that Hermione realized she was pinned in place by strong hands wrapped around her waist.

The gentle breathing of the Bulgarian holding onto her lulled her back to sleep within seconds. The sound of his heart beating against her ear was all the lullaby that she needed.

* * *

On a stone terrace that was built into the face of a mountain, only reachable by a long, thin and rickety bridge, Viktor showed Hermione exactly what made Durmstrang the most beautiful school in the world. Orange, pink, and purple hues lit their faces as the sun rose over the side of the castle and reflected against the snowy mountain top far above their heads.

Hermione was wonder-struck. Despite the chill, the calm sunrise warmed her from somewhere inside. Like a balm to her soul. She just couldn’t imagine the number of dark wizards that came from Durmstrang when they had this calming view at their pleasure every single morning.

“As I said,” he whispered, voice just shy of her ear. “Second most beautiful view in the vorld.”

Hermione turned her cheek toward his voice. Their lips were near-touching and her eyes widened as she took in the darkening gaze of her Bulgarian host. Was he calling her beautiful, or was she only hoping that’s what he meant? There was a peculiar swooping feeling in her belly as his hand moved to her cheek and cupped it gently.

“I haff enjoyed your company, Herm-o-ninny.” His voice was but a breath between them, warm and low, and sweet against her lips. “I haff alvays vondered if there vould be something for us, after — everything.”

She swallowed and wet her lips. “You were the first person to see me as more than a bookworm. I’ve never forgotten how you made me feel.”

His eyes flicked to her lips and back again. “And how vas that?”

“Desired,” she whispered, but whatever she was going to say after that was cut off by Viktor’s lips softly pressing against hers. He swallowed her gasp and pressed her back against the balcony with his hands twisted into her hair.

The sun rose relentlessly over the mountainside, bathing them in glorious yellow hues. Viktor pulled away, kissed her chastly, and swiped his thumb over her bottom lip. Hermione wrapped her hands around his neck and smiled up at him, perfectly content with this surprising turn of events.

“Vould you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball, Minister Granger?” Viktor’s dark eyes sparkled in the sunrise and Hermione couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking her face as she nodded and dragged his lips back to hers.


End file.
